


take and eat my body like it's holy

by babychannie



Series: everything i ask for (and so much more) [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Lee Felix is Whipped (Stray Kids), M/M, Nipple Piercings, Rimming, and guess what, and yet......never enough, blonde chan because i love him, gratuitous chan appreciation really, gratuitous chan body appreciation, if you followed me on twt when i called this the ass eating fic..., quilting metaphors?????, soft chanlix sin 2: electric boogaloo, yeah - Freeform, yeah it's 12k now and there's so much more involved i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babychannie/pseuds/babychannie
Summary: “You’re not gonna break my neck, Chris.” He runs a hand along one of the legs beside his head, fingers slipping over a rough patch of stubble where Chan hadn’t quite shaved perfectly.Chan 'hmph's with the intellectual air of someone who’s been reading too many clickbait articles. “The human neck is weaker than you’d think. It’s a definite possibility.”Felix laughs out loud at that. “Yeah? Gonna take me out with your fat fuckin’ ass, baby?”In which Felix gives Chan's body the worship it deserves.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Series: everything i ask for (and so much more) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117160
Comments: 39
Kudos: 347





	take and eat my body like it's holy

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back to bless/curse you with more rambling horny chan adoration!!
> 
> this is a loose sequel to feeling good (like i should). you don't have to read that one to understand this, but i do reference it. just know that it’s a few years in the future when chanlix have their own apartment and also they're both switches.

Felix has loved Chan for as long as he can remember.

Well, there _was_ a time he knew Chan and didn’t love him. There _must_ have been, because Felix doesn’t believe in love at first sight and he knows for a fact that he was a little scared of Chan when they first met.

So he must have _fallen_ in love at some point. It can’t have just appeared out of thin air the second he first caught sight of fluffy silver hair and dimples. But when he looks back, tries to pinpoint the moment when it all changed, he just…can’t.

Maybe it was the day they won their first award, Miroh’s drop thudding in time with Felix’s heart as he watched Chan sob over the trophy.

Maybe it was the day he’d been eliminated on the survival show, and Chan's lips had trembled harder than his own as he made Felix a promise that had never been broken.

Maybe it was Felix’s first day working with the group that would become Stray Kids, when Chan had showed up in an intimidating blackout ensemble, laptop and resting bitch face in tow, and then beamed at Felix so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any of those. And when Felix tries to trace the thread of this feeling back and back and back, it just keeps going, until there’s no Chan and no Felix and no _anything_ but two boys making awkward introductions in a JYP practice room.

Felix doesn’t believe in love at first sight. But looking back on it, at the end of that thread, the shy touch of sweaty palms feels a lot like an anchor stitch.

And from that moment, he was done for.

* * *

They say if you’re doing what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. For Felix, loving Chris Bang is a full-time job.

Back when they’d just been _Aussie bros_ , just _soulmates_ (yeah, Felix isn’t too proud of how long it took him to pick up on that one), back when Felix hadn’t even really understood why he had such a desperate need to be the cause of Chan’s smile…even then, he threw himself into the art of loving Chan with the same single-minded determination awarded to to all the most important things in his life.

It’s been a learning curve.

The thing is, Chan is one of the most loving people Felix has ever known. And at first, foolishly, Felix had thought he would accept love just as easily.

He tried to learn the tells of Chan’s physical and emotional needs and provide wherever possible. He tried to buy Chan’s dinners when they went out together, to give Chan a few minutes' break from translating in English interviews, to assist Chan with music production despite not really having any idea what he was doing.

The key word here is _tried_. Chan has always been stubborn as a mule, determined to shoulder the weight of the world and leave none for others to share. More often than not Felix found himself stonewalled, his attempts at tending to his best friend weak as a candle next to the blazing inferno of Chan’s determination to take care of _him_.

But _Felix_ believes in the concept of equal exchange. And that’s one of the many reasons why being Chris Bang’s boyfriend is far, _far_ superior to being anything else, because _boyfriends_ have authority. _Boyfriends_ can drag Chan out of the studio for romantic candlelight dinners that Chan is _not_ allowed to pay for. _Boyfriends_ can give Chan expensive gifts that he’ll insist he doesn’t need but light up like a kid on Christmas when he receives. _Boyfriends_ can fuck Chan till he nearly cries because he’s never been loved like that before - and yes, that picture is tattooed on the insides of Felix’s eyelids every time he touches himself. It probably will be till the day he dies.

Not to say the sort of give-and-take they have now was easy to come by. Even when they started dating, Chan doted on Felix with a one-sided force that was overpowering.

And it’s not like Felix has ever been one to turn down any attention from Chris Bang, no sir. He’ll let Chan cling to him and snuggle him all day, let Chan put his lips and hands and body on Felix until Felix is nearly sobbing with the force of his pleasure. He’s perfectly happy to be manhandled and spoiled and adored, because frankly he’s living in a goddamn dream with a man like this.

But _receiving_ is only half the joy of being in love. Felix isn't interested in doing anything halfway.

It's taken him over two years of poking and prodding at the little cracks in Chan’s walls for them to get to a place where for every coffee and cuddle and orgasm Felix receives, Chan gets one in return. They might even be starting to figure out that sometimes nothing _needs_ to be given in return.

Not that Chan is the only one who struggles with that. But Felix kinda feels like Chan gave him his entire world and still refuses to let Felix buy him a Big Mac, so. He’s gonna do what he can to even the playing field.

As Methods of Loving Chris Bang go, there’s a definite hierarchy. Of course, Chan will be delighted with anything Felix has to offer, but Felix isn’t here to _meet_ expectations, he’s here to _exceed_ them. It’s the attitude he brings to everything he does, the mentality that got him to Korea and to JYP and in between his best friend and a mattress, and he approaches his relationships in the exact same way.

Number Three on his list is food.

That one’s not a surprise, really – Chan eats like a black hole, and while he’ll often complain of Felix spending money on him when he gets spoiled, the fact that Felix genuinely loves to cook seems to assuage his usual concerns. Nothing makes him brighten like seeing Felix barge into the studio with a fat Tupperware container of pastries or pasta or whatever little tapas dish has caught his attention today. Chan's genuinely helpful test kitchen feedback and adorable full-cheeked smile are just bonuses.

Number Two is acts of service.

Another obvious answer, for anyone who’s been around Chan for more than five minutes. He struggles at times with verbalizing his feelings, but proof of them exists tangibly all around him.

He spends hundreds of late nights in the studio composing songs fine-tuned to showcase his boys’ talents _just so_. Back when they lived in the dorm, sunrise found him clumsily putting together breakfast for everyone, even though he is _not_ a morning person and was honestly probably the least awake out of all of them. His door is always open, his ear always ready. He loves by lifting up and looking after.

Despite his resistance to receiving that sort of care himself, it’s a love language he understands intimately; when Felix directs it at him, he shines.

Number One is touch.

Chan _loves_ to touch and be touched, in the smallest and most casual of ways. Always sitting too close on a couch that has a person’s worth of extra room, bumping shoulders and grabbing arms when someone makes him laugh. His hands are a constant and reassuring weight on all of their shoulders at every interview and red carpet photoshoot. He hugs, often and everywhere and a _lot_.

For the first couple years they’d known each other, Chan wasn’t very touchy-feely with Felix. Felix, in return, didn’t cling to him the way he did the other members, especially when he began to slide down that slippery slope of _arms_ and _eyes_ and _ass_ and _oh God, oh God._ Then there was that One Kids’ Room, and Chan had hovered in the kitchen afterwards with genuine hurt in his eyes to ask Felix _why._ His hands had been open at his sides in a silent request that Felix wasn't even sure Chan himself was aware of.

That was the night that Felix thought _fuck it_ and followed Chan into his bunk to say three words he couldn’t take back.

They'd probably been right to keep their hands off of each other, considering how long it took them to go from platonic cuddling to _shh, baby, let me make you feel good_. But really, any amount of public distance and irritated banging on the walls from the other members was worth the way Chan was suddenly _all over him_ , and Felix realized just how much Chan had been holding himself back.

Going from Chan and Felix to _ChanandFelix_ meant good-morning brushes of fingers over the back of Felix’s neck. It meant backhugs no matter _what_ Felix was trying to get done. It meant Chan’s lap was 24/7 free real estate. It meant that Chan’s callused fingers and body heat became constant companions, and it meant that Felix’s touch became something to Chan that no one else’s could be.

One thing that has always been Chan’s favorite are Felix’s massages. He’s always tense, always stressed, and they both know that sort of just comes with the territory of their lives. That doesn’t make Felix ache any less to watch him come home after a tough day, shoulders tight and thoughts so tangled that it reflects in the state of his hair.

And Felix can’t always fix Chan, he knows that. Sometimes bad days are just bad, and Chan feels bad, and he’ll go to sleep feeling bad in hopes of waking up a little better. It happens to all of them, and Felix knows that there are times when all the love in the world might not be able to make someone feel okay.

But a good massage is always a start. It softens Chan like ice-cream left out in the Australian December sun, brings him back to himself, to Felix, in the times when he can't find his way out of his own head. He'd told Felix once that it makes him feel as if Felix is dissolving Chan's mental strain right along with the physical.

It's a win-win situation really, because Felix loves to touch Chan as much as Chan loves to be touched by Felix. He will never, ever get tired of the joy of being able to love the hurt out of someone.

And that’s how they end up here.

* * *

Felix knows it’s been a long, hard day even before he gets the curt text saying that Chan won’t be able to make their planned dinner date tonight. Earlier that afternoon, refilling his water bottle in between dance practice and private vocal lessons, he’d caught a distant glimpse of Chan stalking down a hallway in the JYP building. Chan hadn’t seen Felix, his mouth taut and eyes stormy as he stewed in his thoughts.

Felix had interrogated everyone he met for the rest of the day, but it seemed that the JYP gossip train was currently running on empty. The most he'd heard was a conspiratorial whisper that someone very unimportant had fucked up something very important, and Chan was the one who was having to deal with the fallout.

He’s still fuzzy on the details, so he doesn’t know quite _how_ hard the day has been until Chan announces his return home with the unnecessarily hard _bang_ of the front door into its frame. He completely disregards the takeout boxes Felix had ordered from the restaurant they were supposed to go to, drops his laptop bag unceremoniously on the kitchen floor, and buries himself in Felix’s arms. Felix sets the upscale wine he’d been fruitlessly trying to open down on the counter to hold him.

“You wanna talk about it?” He murmurs into Chan’s hair. It’s wild, like Chan’s been raking his fingers through it.

Chan shakes his head. He’s silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Can we just…go lay down for a bit?”

“Of course,” Felix kisses his temple and takes his hand, leading him into the bedroom and leaving the scent of expensive steak behind.

When Felix shuts the bedroom door behind him, they fall into darkness. The window over the bed is uncovered, and moonlight draws outlines around their dresser, their nightstand, Chan’s irises.

Chan drops onto the edge of their bed, head hanging as he toes his shoes off without bothering to untie them. He kicks them out of the way so hard that they _thump_ against the far wall. Felix slides himself onto the bed behind Chan, pressing his front to Chan’s back in an attempt to chase away the chill of the outside air that lingers on Chan’s skin.

When Chan doesn’t resist the touch, Felix winds his arms around him and presses his cheek to the nape of Chan’s neck. Chan leans back into him slightly, but his body is tense, braced against some enemy that Felix doesn’t know. And doesn’t need to know, right now. He swallows his curiosity.

What’s important at this moment is the man in his arms, and how to make him breathe soft and easy again.

“What do you need?” Felix asks, his voice quiet in the dark.

Chan sighs so deeply that Felix feels his chest curling in on itself in Felix’s hold. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna think anymore.”

The words are clipped, but Felix knows that none of that edge is directed at him. He runs his nose up the curve of Chan’s throat, attentive all the while for any changes in Chan’s comfort with his touches. Every muscle Felix can feel against his own body is wound as tight as if Chan hasn’t stretched it in years.

“Can I give you a massage, baby?” Felix asks into the fluffy curl behind Chan’s ear.

Chan drops his head back onto Felix’s shoulder with a little groan. “God, _please_.”

Felix can’t help but smile at the instant relief in his voice. They both know there’s nothing that can make Chan melt faster than Felix’s deft fingers, and he means that in every sense of the word.

Right now, though, his thoughts are on making Chan moan for the purest of reasons. He slips his hands beneath the hem of Chan’s t-shirt, drawing it upwards until Chan gets the idea and yanks it over his head unceremoniously. It goes flying into the same corner as the shoes.

Felix watches it go, smoothing his palms over Chan’s strong back.

“Wasn’t that shirt, like, ridiculously expensive? What’d it ever do to you?”

Chan makes a huffy little sound that might have the slightest hint of humor in it, and Felix tries not to think about how the smallest touch from him brings Chan to ease. “Was in your way.”

Felix laughs and digs his thumbs into either side of Chan’s spine. As he rubs tight circles, the effect is immediate – satisfaction rumbles in Chan’s throat and his shoulders droop back into Felix’s touch.

He works the kinks out of Chan’s muscles just the way he knows Chan likes – fingers squeezing and kneading around his neck, his upper arms, down his back. Chan’s skin is cool and smooth, warmth rushing back into it as Felix stimulates the blood flow.

He begins to drop kisses in the wake of his touches, lips moving sweetly over Chan’s nape, the lines of his shoulders. Chan sags against him, arching his neck in search of attention around his ears. His breathing begins to steady.

Felix can’t see him so well just by the shine of the moon, but he knows if the light were better he’d be watching the lightest of freckles squeeze between his fingers, redness blooming beneath them like amaryllis. And suddenly he wants to, badly.

“Take your pants off and lay down for me?” he asks, and Chan hums an assent.

As Chan struggles with his jeans in the darkness, Felix leaves his side to close the blinds and flick on the lamp at their bedside. Its light is dim and yellowish, but it’s still painfully bright to unadjusted eyes. Chan startles, pants halfway down his calves, and turns quickly to check if the window is still uncovered.

“You’re good, babe,” Felix grins at him. “No bare ass for Dispatch today.”

Chan _hmphs_ , and Felix is pleased to see that he already looks almost like himself again. “Bold of you to assume you’ll be getting me naked.”

He flings his jeans and socks off into space and flops onto his back over the bedspread. His black briefs remain firmly on. Felix would have let him keep them on anyways, because he was really just looking for leg access, but now Chan is relaxing enough to tease and there’s a matching playfulness bubbling up in Felix’s chest.

“Aw, c’mon,” he whines. “How am I supposed to worship your body properly if you won’t even let me see it?”

Chan colors immediately, much to Felix’s delight. Of the two of them, Felix is hands-down the shyer – Chan is a social butterfly on the worst of days, and he has an ability to cope with social situations sans mortifying missteps that Felix will envy eternally. (Chan _still_ hasn’t let him forget about the first time he introduced Felix to BamBam.)

But Chan, in all his years of looking fine as hell, hearing praise around every corner, dating _Felix_ , has never really learned how to take a compliment. It’s all too easy to press his buttons and turn him into a stuttering, stumbling pile of goo.

Over the course of their relationship, Chan - patient, supportive, nurturing Chan - has made Felix feel more self-assured and confident than Felix ever has in his life. These days, Felix can handle BamBam or JYP himself or _anyone in the goddamn world_ even without the quiet strength of his boyfriend behind him.

Felix pays Chan back by telling him he’s hot until he looks one shade away from heatstroke.

That’s what equal exchange is all about, he thinks.

“Wha- you’re not…you’re not _worshiping_ anything, what does that even mean?” Chan protests. “You are _massaging_ me, oh my gosh.”

Felix smiles at him, the sort of smile often reserved for someone who _just doesn’t get it_. “Is it ever just a _massage_ with me, Chris?”

And it isn’t. It never is, because _just a massage_ isn’t what Chan deserves. _Just a massage_ isn’t what Felix wants to give.

It seemed to surprise Chan a little at first when he found out just how much Felix truly loves to _love_. Felix doesn’t know why, given his propensity to shower Chan in care and kisses and homemade brownies even before either of them even knew what those really meant. But none of that appeared to have prepared Chan for what he'd be facing once their relationship turned physical.

Whenever Felix receives permission to touch Chan with no clothing in between, he _touches_ , with the same attentive fervor he gives to things that don’t mean nearly as much to him as Chan does.

But Chan means more than anything, and that's what Felix gives him.

The first time Felix had asked to worship him, Chan reacted to the request as if it were a joke. When Felix had just stared at him, gaze pleading and hands hovering over the planes of his naked stomach as if magnetized, Chan had whispered, _you’re serious?_ and Felix was.

Then Chan had watched Felix move around his body with utter bafflement, and when Felix had asked him what he was waiting for, he’d said _for you to get bored_ as if it was an expectation.

Felix had sucked one of Chan’s fingers into his mouth, and once it was all slick and shiny with spit, dropped it and said _as if I could._ Chan had looked at him with the same indescribable glow he had the night Felix had first told him he loved him.

These slow, lazy nights spent cataloguing every facet of Chan's presence soothe Felix in the same way his massages soothe Chan. They're almost meditative – a gentle reminder that this is his person, and his person is right here, all of him.

Always here, for Felix. Always.

If he’s being honest, Felix thinks every minute he spends with Chan might count as worship, but that’s a whole other question.

“I’ve literally kissed your feet before,” Felix points out, thinking fondly of how Chan had nearly kicked him in the face when he’d pressed a surprise peck to one of his soles a few weeks ago.

“I didn’t _ask_ you to kiss my feet!”

Unimportant. They were Chan’s feet, so Felix was gonna kiss them.

“And?” he asks smugly, “I did it. And I’ll do it again.”

Chan lets out an exasperated sound, but there’s a little curve to his mouth.

“Ridiculous,” Chan snorts, even as he curls his legs up to slide his underwear down and off. Felix can see the pink around his ears, though, and knows that his explicit admiration of Chan pleases him more than he’d like to admit.

“I don’t understand why you like to just _look_ so much,” Chan says, almost to himself as he falls back onto the mattress.

Felix doesn’t respond, because Chan has asked this question before, and they both know the answer Felix has to give. It’s an answer that’s apparent to him in every curve and line of Chan’s body, in the way his veins stand out beneath his skin, in the way his V cuts through milky flesh.

He’s fucking beautiful, that’s why.

Not that Chan _believes_ this answer, but he allows Felix’s eyes to travel his body. The definition of hard-earned muscle on his torso, the silver bracelet that glints against his slim wrist, the faint happy trail that points down towards his soft cock. The scab on his knee from where he’d fallen on black ice last week is beginning to lighten. His ankle flexes as he shifts under Felix's gaze. Beside it, there's the faintest of stains on the sheet, a reminder of the time Felix's hot-ass boyfriend had hypnotized him into wasting half a bottle of very expensive lube.

“Take your shirt off, at least,” Chan says, pointing one finger imperiously at Felix’s chest. Felix grins.

“Now why would I do that?” he asks, even as he’s pulling his oversized hoodie and the worn tee under it up over his head.

When he returns to Chan on the bed, clambering onto the covers next to him, Chan wraps his arms around Felix’s waist and pulls him down before he’s ready. All the breath is forced out of Felix’s lungs when he topples onto Chan, and he’s about to make some kind of comment about how Chan’s damn lucky Felix didn’t just crush his soft dick.

Then Chan sighs, “Warm,” into the side of his neck, squeezing Felix as tight as he had out there in the kitchen. Felix swallows his words and simply rests his cheek against Chan's curls.

Chan holds him in silence for a long moment, the position a little awkward, but Felix doesn’t move a muscle. Gentle flirting aside, he’s here to care for the man he loves first and foremost. Chan gets to make all the decisions on days like this, to seek out what he needs.

Finally, Chan loosens his grip around Felix’s waist. A squeeze to the side of Felix's hip feels like silent thanks.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m good.”

Felix pulls away slowly to see Chan watching him with the tiniest of smiles. There's a softness in his eyes that's shining past the dull exhaustion like a full moon breaking through clouds. Felix isn’t quite sure what he’s done to make Chan look at him like that, but he’s glad he did it.

“Massage?” he asks. Chan nods and rolls himself over onto his stomach.

Felix immediately sits himself on Chan’s ass and gets to work on the parts of his back that had been unreachable in their earlier position. His fingers slip over the little dips of Chan’s lower back dimples – one of his favorite features on Chan. He drops little kisses on each one.

Felix migrates up and down Chan's torso, taking his time with each and every knot until Chan’s pleased sounds have become so constant they’re practically a humming drone into the pillow. When Felix is satisfied with his performance, he slides lower; over Chan’s thighs, past his knees.

Chan hadn’t been practicing dance with him, Minho, and Hyunjin that day, but his legs are as tight as if he had. As Felix works those kinks out of his calf, mouth tracing Chan’s Achilles tendon, he can feel the tension sluicing from Chan’s body.

It makes him feel powerful. He alone can do something as small as pressing lips and fingertips into Chan’s muscles and turn him from a stressed-out, irritable mess into what he is now – buried into the softness of their bed, barely twitching when Felix makes like he’s going to go after the ticklish bottom of his foot again.

Once Chan feels relaxed all the way down to his toes, Felix moves up to kiss the back of his head. Unstyled hair tickles his nose. It smells like Chan and green tea shampoo.

“Turn over for me?”

Chan makes a little _hmm_ noise and rolls onto his back. His body splays across the mattress as messily as his hair fluffs out on the pillow. His expression is sleepy and content and utterly _Chan_.

“There you are,” Felix says, more to himself than to Chan.

“Yeah,” Chan croaks anyways. The hands that had once been clenched into fists are loose and open over the sheets.

“Can I worship you now?” Felix asks, a little roguish. Chan doesn’t seem to have the energy to do more than sigh about it.

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” is all he says as he spreads his legs for Felix anyways.

Felix settles himself between Chan’s legs and leans up into his chest, mouthing at the hollow between his collarbones.

“What am I supposed to do?” he breathes against the skin, eyeing a little spatter of freckles beside his lips and kissing that too. “Lie?”

Chan shivers against him and stays silent.

Felix explores Chan’s body unhurriedly, pressing dry, chaste pecks to everything he can reach. He’s not opposed to turning Chan on, not against hearing that little hitch in his breath that comes whenever Felix’s teeth graze over his sensitive spots, but that’s not the goal here.

Where his mouth goes, his touch follows – over Chan’s abs, down his arms. He’s still massaging ever-so-gently, looking to comfort rather than loosen. His lips slide through the crook of Chan’s elbow and Chan takes his hand, laces their fingers together with a little squeeze. Felix smiles and darts up to kiss him properly.

“Pretty,” he mumbles against Chan’s mouth. When he pulls back Chan’s blushing, but doesn’t contradict him.

“Beautiful,” Chan says instead, eyes taking in every centimeter of Felix’s face with the same hunger he always does. It’s like he thinks Felix will disappear on him if he looks away for a second.

Felix ducks his chin down to his chest and can’t help the dumb smile that rounds out his cheeks, head fuzzing over like radio interference. Chan has that effect on him so easily, it’s honestly embarrassing.

“Hmm,” Felix murmurs, probably sounding more pleased than he intends. He nuzzles into Chan’s shoulder, then ducks his head down and presses his mouth to Chan’s armpit.

“ _Lix!_ ” Chan squawks, startled and ticklish. His body jerks viciously, and Felix, practiced in the art of irritating his boyfriend, jumps out of the way before Chan’s elbow can catch him in the eye as it snaps down.

It had happened once, and Chan had been absolutely distraught for the ten seconds he’d thought Felix was crying instead of cackling hysterically as the beginnings of a faint bruise throbbed against the side of his face. Afterwards, he’d grumbled that Felix had done that shit to himself, really, even as he dropped apologetic butterfly kisses all over the injury. Felix had laughed and agreed and loved Chan even more than he had the day before.

If Chan had thought Felix would stop targeting his ticklish spots after that, he was sorely mistaken. Being able to hear Chan squeal and giggle while Felix made sure that every inch of his body got its proper appreciation was well worth the learning curve of dodging his flailing when Felix got too close to his armpits, the crooks of his knees, the soles of his feet.

Now Felix snickers as Chan gives him a baleful look, but Chan’s lips are tense as he tries to hold back his own amusement. Felix knows Chan loves this, though he’ll never admit it – this idea Felix has, wild though Chan thinks it is, that the entirety of him is beautiful and incredible and worth loving.

Chan’s disbelief is okay, for now. Felix has the rest of their lives to convince him.

Then Felix accidentally gets a lick of his own lips, and makes a face. “Oh God, deodorant. Ew.”

Chan cackles as he furiously tries to wipe the soapy taste from his mouth. “That’s what you get, you fucking demon.”

Felix scoffs in mock offense. “Oh _I’m_ sorry, I’ll just stop giving you attention now, I suppose.”

He makes to scoot backwards off the bed, but Chan’s legs are suddenly locked tight around him like a vise. His eyes are huge and innocent.

“I never said anything of the sort, my love. Come back here and suck on my nipples.”

Little giggles are puffing through his fake-serious act, thighs strong against Felix’s ribs, and Felix gets a little lost in Chan, the way he sometimes does. The way he does even more these days, since the afternoon that Chan opened up to him figuratively _and_ literally. Something shifted in Chan after that, something behind his eyes that Felix can’t quite put his finger on. It shows through in moments like this, when he demands Felix’s attention with a carelessness that makes Felix’s heart swell. He’s still Chris Bang, still stubborn and careful and drowning in second-guesses, but. But.

Felix has made a difference. He _is_ making a difference, and he can see it. And that makes him nearly as happy as being loved by Chan in the first place.

Felix sighs in a way he knows is noticeably adoring. “As you wish,” he says with the same faux pomposity, and leans forward to do exactly as requested.

Felix kisses down Chan’s throat to his chest, palm roaming over the gentle swell of a pec. His mouth trails across the other one and closes around a soft nipple. The motion is gentle and toothless, more affectionate than arousing.

Chan makes a pleased noise at the feeling, and when Felix darts his tongue out to lick at the nipple again, it’s stiff. His fingers brush over the other nub with a teasing little flick, delighting in the way Chan’s breath hitches when Felix’s touch shifts the new, shiny metal pierced through it.

Chan has never been all that much for body modification. While he could appreciate the aesthetics of a nice tattoo or an artful piercing, the little rings in his ears had always been the only addition he had ever made, or been planning to make, to his body.

For Felix, on the other hand, the idea has always held a certain…draw. Although his own nerves and his career’s visual requirements are both impediments, he has a wish-list about a mile long that he can ramble about for ages. Whenever he does so, Chan listens with rapt interest, absently toying with the holes in his earlobes.

Once, nearly a year ago, Chan had said flippantly that he was considering getting another piercing. Nothing big, a second hole in his ear or something, maybe. He’d asked what Felix thought he should get as he ground up a protein shake in preparation for his upcoming workout. His biceps were exposed in his gym tank, veiny and flexing just slightly as he held down the lid of the blender.

Felix, already about two seconds from jumping Chan’s bones, head filled with thoughts of the way Chan’s cock had twitched inside him when Felix had tweaked his nipple the week before, had blurted _nipples_ with a rather embarrassing fervor.

Chan’s complexion had flooded bright red, and he’d squeaked, “ _What?_ ”

And by the time Felix had finished running through all the reasons why Chan should absolutely, _totally_ get his nipples pierced (easy to hide, sensitive, hot as _fuck_ ), they were both laughing. Felix knew it was just a flirty joke, that Chan would never, ever do it.

Until the day five months later, when he’d come home after a very mysterious ‘business outing’, embarrassed and fidgeting and mumbling _uh, so I may have done something_.

When Chan had lifted his shirt up, right there in the kitchen, and shown Felix the gleaming metal pierced through his left nipple – swollen fat and _red_ – Felix thinks that’s the closest he’s ever come to going actually batshit feral.

Then he’d had the _audacity_ , the goddamned _nerve_ , to say that he’d just gotten one to try it out, and did Felix think he should get a second?

The healing period before Felix could show Chan _exactly why he should_ was the longest half year of his life.

The sensation is still very new for Chan – they’ve only been playing with the piercing for a few weeks now, and the way he shudders against Felix’s mouth and body when Felix handles it makes Felix cum nearly as fast as he does. It’s been Felix’s new favorite pastime, sucking on that thing like a goddamn pacifier and listening to Chan whimper and moan above him.

Chan’s legs go maybe a bit too slack as Felix proceeds to do just that. He makes a little whiny noise as Felix runs his tongue over the metallic lines of the bar. It moves in Chan’s nipple just slightly as Felix lavishes it with messy attention, and Chan arches up against his face.

Felix noses the ball at the end of it and laughs breathily against Chan’s chest. He’s trying to keep things innocent - he doesn’t know if Chan is really up for finishing what this could start, and it would be a little mean to leave him frustrated on a night like tonight. But really, it’s not _Felix’s_ fault that he was absolutely right about the effect the piercing would have on Chan’s already sensitive nipple, and _Chan’s_ the one who asked him to suck on it, so. Really, Felix cannot be blamed for the way he can feel Chan’s cock starting to swell up a little against his hip.

Felix rubs circles over Chan’s other nipple with two fingers and presses a kiss to the piercing.

“I’m gonna get you hard, aren’t I?” He coos, and goes back to his job before Chan can answer.

Felix draws his teeth over the nipple lightly, and as he feels the bar roll beneath his bite Chan tangles his fingers into Felix’s hair just a little too tight. The feeling shoots straight down his spine. Maybe Chan won’t be the only one getting a boner out of this. Felix gives him one good suck, lips detaching from the nipple with a quiet _pop_.

“Mmnn,” he purrs. “Like it when you do that.”

“I know you do,” Chan says somewhere above him, his voice rough.

Felix decides to have mercy on him for now, setting Chan’s abused bud free with an obscenely wet lick. He doesn’t even realize how much Chan had been rising into his touch until Chan slumps back against the mattress. As the hand slips limply out of his hair, Felix sits back to take in the sight beneath him with satisfaction.

Chan has absolutely sunk into the covers, his cheeks hot and his nipples flushed and swollen. Felix pokes at the unpierced side, puffy and dusky-rose, and Chan’s hips jump.

He glances down to see Chan's cock, pink as his face and definitely half-hard. If Felix hadn’t stopped when he did, if he’d allowed Chan to hold Felix to his chest by the hair like he did when pleasure turned him senseless and needy, Chan would have been fully hard and dripping in another minute or two.

But Chan’s eyes are closed, eyelashes brushing the blush that obscures his light freckles, and Felix knows he made the right choice. If Chan decides that he wants to get off tonight, Felix will be happy to put his mouth right back where it was. For now he just hums, endeared and amused by Chan’s obvious arousal through his exhaustion.

“You horny or sleepy, baby?” he asks. He leans down to give Chan’s cock a simple peck. There’s nothing sexual in the action, just tenderness.

“Hmmm,” Chan makes a lazy noise. “Haven’t decided, but you can keep doing that.”

“That?” Felix asks, tilting his head inquisitively even though Chan can’t see him.

Chan shifts his hips to rub himself gently against Felix’s shoulder. “ _Anything_.”

“Mmkay.” Felix smiles and sits himself back between Chan’s legs. Sometimes, these sessions turn into passionate sex. Other times, Felix will look up from nosing at Chan’s hipbone to find his boyfriend snoring softly into the open air.

Although at times the latter scenario can leave Felix with some blue balls – he’s not _trying_ to get horny, but he’s got _Chris Bang_ naked in front of him, alright? – he thinks he prefers them somewhere deep in his heart. He'd gladly fuck Chan every day for the rest of his life, but there’s something that never gets old about knowing that Chan is so comfortable with Felix that he’ll fall asleep right there, like that, naked and sprawled out and being cared for like he deserves.

Whichever way this night will go, Chan is here and he's happy, and that will always be enough.

Chan’s half-chub is drawing his eyes, so he figures he’ll take a closer look. He leans down to lift Chan’s right leg and crook his knee over Felix’s shoulder. Chan cracks his eyes open for only a moment before closing them again, and that trust spreads warmth through Felix’s chest.

He’s got a good view like this. Of Chan, all of him, spread out in front of Felix for him alone to appreciate. It’s a kaleidoscope of color: newly-bleached blonde hair over pale skin, soft blue veins running along the insides of his arms. A body splotched with the rosiness of arousal, red where Felix’s teeth have been on him.

Felix runs his fingers gently around the base of Chan’s dick, giving one of his favorite parts of Chan’s body its due appreciation. Then he starts butterfly kissing up the thigh beside his face. Chan’s skin is freshly shaven – photoshoots yesterday, this time with some very short shorts – and Felix can see clearly every faint freckle that dots the insides of his thighs, the pale white stretch marks that shoot down from his pelvis. He traces one of those with his tongue, and Chan’s next exhale is almost a sound.

Then, as he works his way up to Chan’s length, he catches sight of the space between Chan’s legs, and has a _thought_.

Felix admires and adores every part of Chan’s body with the same intensity he feels for the man himself. Every fragment of Chan is beautiful to Felix, in the way someone can only be when you’re in love. It’s a sentiment he sees reflected in Chan’s eyes when Chan thinks he’s not looking, as Felix putters around the kitchen in the mornings or laughs himself into Chan’s lap on movie nights or just…exists, really. There’s something about loving someone that turns the most ordinary things into art.

Chan’s center, though. Right there between his thighs, a part of Chan that Felix can picture squeezing tight around his cock every time he sees it. Maybe it’s because it’s rather new territory – he’d fucked Chan for the first time less than a year ago, and every opportunity to do so still rears a jittery kind of excitement in him. Maybe it’s because Felix knows full well how self-conscious Chan still is about him looking at it, and feels a desperate need to make Chan understand how much he loves it. Whatever the reason, every time he catches sight of it, knows it’s there and accessible and _his_ , Felix feels a little wild.

When they'd first started having sex, back when everything was new and confusing and completely unreal, there was this way that Chan would look at Felix every time Felix spread his legs for him. Before their frenzied honeymoon phase softened, before they started to love each other in a way that was more learned and domestic – every time, Chan would stare.

It was as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that those were _his_ fingers disappearing inside Felix’s body, _his_ cock stretching Felix open. He would watch Felix swallow him down with an expression on his face that made Felix arch into Chan’s touch as much as it made him want to hide.

Felix thinks he probably looks much the same as Chan did then, right now – intent and hungry and a little disbelieving, like a starving man faced with a feast.

He doesn’t get to admire it as often as he wishes. Though Felix has topped Chan more than a few times since that first afternoon, Chan is not somebody to one-eighty on his personality overnight. There’s still a certain shyness about him, especially when it comes to Felix just _looking_ and not _using_. Chan has never really liked being ogled, and, Felix figures, if Chan wanted to marvel at Felix’s asshole the way Felix always wants to marvel at Chan’s, Felix would probably be a bit self-conscious too.

But he just…he can’t _help_ it. His boyfriend is so goddamn beautiful.

The fact that Chan is, right now, not even blushing or squirming or protesting Felix exposing him to the cool bedroom air is evidence that he’s totally out of it. Felix takes a glance up at him and sees that indeed, if Chan isn’t asleep then he’s very close to it - he hasn't even opened his eyes to see what Felix is doing down here. He’s still hard, but a little less so now that the angry flush around his nipples has died down.

Felix remembers something he did, that first day. When he had all the time in the world to see Chan, to take him in, to spread him out. He remembers giving into the haze of _holy fuck, Chris_ over his brain, pressing his face down into the spot between Chan’s legs and kissing it as gently as he would Chan’s lips.

The only image from that day that’s burned into his brain as starkly as Chan cumming beneath him is the moment after Felix kissed him down there, when he looked up and saw the most fucked-out, aroused expression on Chan’s face that he ever has. He’d asked, of course, but Chan had already cum in his pants once and Felix wasn’t really expecting a _yes_.

But ever since, every time he caught sight of Chan’s ass when he was doing something as innocuous as rooting around in their dresser for clothes after a shower, Felix thought about it. Chan…well, Chan definitely had not seemed _opposed_ to the idea.

Felix redirects and pushes Chan’s leg up a little higher, laying sloppy kisses down the back of his thigh to his ass cheek.

(Chan wasn’t nearly as flexible as Felix, but he could bend in ways Felix honestly hadn’t anticipated before they began sleeping together. They’d starred prominently in his fantasies, back when fucking Chan into next Tuesday was just another one of those.)

Chan starts giggling a bit at the feeling, and when Felix peeks up at him he sees that Chan’s eyes are slit open and he looks a little bashful again. He’s still not really used to Felix being anywhere around his hole.

Felix hums and considers for a moment, thinking of Chan’s flushed face, the dark glitter in his eyes. He feels like being a bit mischievous today. He feels like proving a point.

Then he ducks down and presses a quick little kiss to Chan’s hole.

Chan yelps and startles, right heel thumping against Felix’s back as his leg jerks.

“Felix! A little warning!” he whines.

He's trying to bluff off the breathiness in his voice, but Felix can hear it clear as a bell.

Felix laughs. “Sorry.” And he’s not trying to turn either of them on, really, he’s not, but when his breath puffs against Chan’s hole he _watches_ it clench and can nearly _feel_ his pupils blow wide.

“…Oh.” He finds himself saying, quietly astounded. The only other time he’d ever teased Chan this way, he hadn’t stuck around down there to see the results.

When Felix tries to meet Chan’s eyes, he has to do it around a cock that’s suddenly much more swollen than it was before.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, and he means it as a joke, a lighthearted taunt to make Chan groan and blush in embarrassed amusement. But Chan’s center is two inches from his face and squeezing around nothing, and Felix’s thoughts are fizzling into static. The words come out breathless.

Chan’s blinking at him, suddenly wide awake. His eyes are big and shiny. He swallows hard.

“Um.” He starts. “Do…do it again.”

Oh, _fuck_.

Felix is happy to comply. He kisses Chan again, a little less chastely this time, feeling warm dry skin against his lips. Then once more with the slightest bit of suction, the tip of his tongue flicking just barely across the muscle. He takes in the taste of Chan, the hint of salt on familiar skin.

He can hear the breath Chan huffs out from down here.

“Oh my God,” Chan mumbles from somewhere above him.

Felix takes that as a good sign and continues, keeping it wholesome (or as wholesome as kissing your boyfriend’s asshole can be). Teasing, but not overpowering. He needs Chan to decide for himself what he’s comfortable with, what he wants out of this whole thing.

And yeah, the idea of it is making the whole ‘starving man’ metaphor feel a whole lot more literal to Felix. And _yeah_ , maybe he’s going to take a moment to show Chan exactly what Felix could be doing tonight if Chan allows him.

He feels Chan’s toes curl into the skin of his back as he traces his tongue around Chan's rim, and it goes straight to his cock.

“That’s…” Chan breathes, voice raspy and low, “That’s good, Lix. Fuck.”

Felix backs off of Chan’s hole for a moment, tilts his head to rest it comfortably on the thigh propped on his shoulder.

“Can I eat you out?” he asks, and Chan’s ears flare red as hot coals.

“W-what?” he splutters.

Felix’s whole body is humming with adrenaline. Maybe he could be wording this a little bit more gently, but those noises Chan’s been making are bouncing around in his head like a DVD screensaver and scattering any other sense he might have to the winds.

So, instead, what he says is, “Wanna fuck you with my tongue.”

Chan gets fully hard so fast Felix almost has to suppress a laugh.

Chan’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, pink as his cheeks. He’s staring at Felix’s mouth as if hypnotized.

He seems to consider for a moment, and then his leg shifts. His toes trace up the bumps of Felix’s spine as he says, “Okay.”

Felix tries to tamp down the rather feral excitement sparking in him for his boyfriend’s sake. From the nervous anticipation flickering over Chan’s features, he doesn’t think he does a very good job.

“Can you get up on your hands and knees for me, babe? I need better access.” Felix feels his smile turn wolfish at the way Chan’s flush creeps down his neck when he hears the word _access_.

“Right,” he says, a little too quickly, and rolls himself over. Felix thinks it might be partially to hide from his own ravenous gaze.

Well. Felix isn’t complaining, as he takes in the sight before him with appreciative eyes. It’s not like Chan hasn’t presented himself to Felix like this before – just last week Felix had had the man bent over their kitchen counter as the cookies Chan had been obnoxiously begging for baked in the oven. But it's still as pretty a view as every other time he’s seen it. Slim, strong thighs, the round curve of an ass that fits perfectly into Felix’s small hands. The muscles in Chan’s legs flex just slightly as he fidgets.

And Felix...well, he can't resist. He lands a light slap to one of Chan's ass cheeks and says, "You're so fucking hot."

"You know I'm in the perfect position to donkey-kick you, right?" Chan sounds disgruntled, even as Felix can see the flattering banter draining the nervousness from his form. "Just...just..." He trails off, but Felix gets the picture.

And for all his inhibition, he sounds _eager_. Felix sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Felix cups the back of Chan’s right thigh, running his hand up it in a gentle, soothing motion. His palm smooths over the pink mark on Chan's ass cheek, and he gives it an affectionate squeeze. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to the small of Chan’s back.

“You want me to stop, you say so, okay?”

He murmurs the words into the skin, as if tattooing them there to make sure Chan internalizes the message.

Chan knows this already. Felix knows he knows. But he says it every time anyways, just to prove the point that Chan is always as safe with Felix as Felix knows he is with Chan.

“Okay,” Chan says, like Felix knew he would.

This is Felix’s favorite part of their sex life, he thinks. And there’s a _lot_ to like about their sex life. There are days when Chan will hold Felix down and drill him till he cries, days when he’ll just watch as Felix rides him sweet and slow. There’s the way Chan looks down at him when Felix pushes him into a bathroom or a closet at JYP, equal parts anxious and aroused as Felix sucks him with little regard to who might hear Chan gasping as they walk past. There’s the way Chan will tie Felix’s wrists to their headboard so gently that the rope never chafes, how he begs when he’s facedown in a pillow and Felix is filling him up.

But the days like _these_ …they’re special, to Felix.

These days are opportunities that he cherishes, because these are the days that Chan makes himself the most vulnerable. When Chan gives into his areas of inexperience, to his secret desires and eagerness to live them. When Chan looks at Felix like _that_ over his shoulder - a little nervous and self-conscious but completely and utterly trusting in Felix’s hands on his body, in Felix’s love for him. These days, when Felix gets to give Chan the orgasms he goddamn fucking _deserves_.

And this day, specifically, because Felix is going to learn what kind of utterly sinful noises Chan is going to make wrapped around Felix’s tongue.

Felix runs a thumb up Chan’s crease, pulling it open gently to get a better look at his hole. It’s the same color as his nipples. Felix wonders if it will look like they had when he’s done with it, wet and puffy and flushed.

He lays fluttery pecks all over, around the rim, spreading out onto Chan’s cheeks. He’s trying to work Chan into it, slowly opening him up, kissing harder and messier as he goes. Chan’s breath starts coming a little shaky.

That’s when Felix licks his tongue flat over Chan’s entrance and Chan _moans_.

“There we go, baby,” Felix says, and he’s going for ‘reassuring’ but he thinks it comes out a little more ‘completely off-balance’ instead.

He can’t help the way his hands grip the meat of Chan’s ass, and there’s suddenly so much heat between his legs that he can barely rein himself in. He’d wanted to take this slow and steady, to introduce Chan to all the pleasures of having his ass eaten with a building intensity that would make Chan sob in rapture. What he didn’t factor into these plans was the amount of self-control that would require from him – self-control that went running for the hills the second he got a taste of Chan. And Chan’s arching up into him, just a little bit, just enough that Felix can _see_ the desire in the curve of his spine. It makes something deep in his gut shiver.

So he doesn’t hold back. Felix kisses Chan between his legs the same way he kisses Chan’s lips on the days when Chan drives him so crazy he can barely think. It’s wet and sloppy and _devouring_. Felix can’t pace himself, he’s doing everything all at once – running his tongue around Chan’s rim, dipping the tip into his hole for exploratory little tastes as his hands roam over every inch of Chan’s body that he can reach from down here.

He’s fine-tuned to Chan the way only a longtime lover can be. As Chan’s breathing starts to catch and quicken, to drift off into little helpless whines, Felix notes what seems to tantalize Chan the most, what tears the most pathetic sounds from his throat.

When he accidentally grazes his teeth over Chan’s rim, overzealous in his enthusiasm, Chan’s tummy quivers under the hand Felix is sliding across his abs. Felix digs his nails into the skin of Chan's stomach and Chan’s entire form twitches.

He takes his time to appreciate Chan’s body the way he’s been dreaming of – sucks hard on one cheek right beside Chan’s hole, admires the shiny wet redness there after he pulls off with a _pop_. He does it again on the soft fat just along the top of Chan’s thigh, then a little farther down, smearing his own saliva over his lips as he marks his beautiful boyfriend up where no one else can see it. A stretch mark glows prettily through the irritation. Felix rubs his nose against it affectionately.

“ _Haaah_ ,” Chan pants, garbled, “ _Lix_.”

“Hm?” Felix can’t resist teasing him a little - overjoyed, as he always is, by his tried and true ability to turn Chris Bang into mush. He kisses the softness of Chan’s balls, takes them in his hand to squeeze gently as he licks back up to Chan’s hole.

Chan’s legs spasm and he makes a tiny, high-pitched _a-aa!_ sound. He nearly hits Felix in the nose as he pitches his hips up in search of more. It’s exhilarating.

“So,” Felix breathes against Chan’s ass cheek, still playing with his balls. “Opinions?”

He can _feel_ the look Chan is shooting him over his shoulder. “Really?” Chan groans.

Felix fakes earnestness as his thumb runs over Chan’s taint. “Really. I need details. I’m not quite sure you like it, yet.”

Chan moans, and his body shifts, and the next time he speaks his voice is muffled. “ _Please_ , Felix.”

Felix blinks and raises himself up on his knees to peek over Chan’s shoulder. He's suddenly very glad he let go of Chan’s balls when he feels his fists tighten of their own accord. Chan has his face buried in the pillow, ass desperately in the air, ears burning very, very red.

Oh. _Oh._

Okay, yeah, Felix is gonna give him what he wants.

He barely has the presence of mind to murmur, “Relax, baby,” against Chan’s rim before he’s probing at the hole with his tongue.

Chan squeaks and clenches against Felix’s face. Felix can’t help but giggle into him, and he can feel his laugh vibrating through Chan's hole. Chan responds by jolting back into his mouth with a choked-off grunt.

It seems to take a second for Chan to get his bearings enough to follow Felix’s instructions, but then he’s opening up. And Felix’s tongue is slipping in and there’s so much heat and _fuck_ , Felix knew Chan was tight, but feeling that squeeze around just the tip of his tongue…he has to spread his legs wide to let his cock breathe.

When Felix pulls his tongue out and thrusts it back in, Chan reacts so loudly that Felix figures they’ll have to add another tally to the list of ‘why the neighbors hate our fucking guts’.

Well. The neighbors can continue to hate their guts, and Felix will be rearranging Chan’s while they do so.

He fucks Chan messily with his tongue, saliva smearing across Chan’s skin and down Felix’s chin. Chan is panting _nnnhhh, ahhh, fuckfuckFUCK_ into the pillow, and he presses himself back into Felix’s face with such zeal that Felix is forced to mumble _chill, baby_ and hold him in place by his ass. The first time Chan’s hole clenches around him, Felix feels himself leaking wetness into his underwear.

When Felix’s tongue starts to get sore, he withdraws reluctantly with a slurping sound that’s utterly pornographic. Chan makes a noise of protest as the cool air brushes over his wet hole. Felix ignores him for the moment, nibbling down Chan’s thighs in a way that he knows full well is teasing. He’s not going to make it that easy. He doesn’t want to make Chan cum tonight, he wants to make Chan _come undone_.

As his mouth travels around to the inside of Chan’s leg, Felix realizes he might be doing an even better job of that than he’d thought. With his entire focus on Chan’s hole, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the state of Chan’s arousal. That is, until his lips slide over something slick and bitter.

He pulls back with a start to see Chan’s cock two inches from his face, swollen fat and red and heavy between Chan’s legs. Precum smears along Chan’s thigh and drips in a delicate string down to a wet spot on the blankets.

 _Fuck_.

Felix licks it all up off his thigh, openmouthed and sloppy. He needs more of that, needs it in his face right fucking now, and honestly this position isn’t the best for his neck anyways, so. He sits back on his haunches to regard Chan’s muscular thighs, the hickey starting to appear on one of his cheeks, and thinks about what those would feel like around his ears.

The image makes him feel like he could cum on the spot.

“Hey.” He says with forced nonchalance, running a hand over the small of Chan’s back, “I’m getting a little tired. You wanna switch positions?”

“Uh…? Oh, um, sure.” Chan says breathlessly, plopping down on his ass as he turns to face Felix, “What…what other positions can we do this in?”

Felix means to answer, he really does, but his brain takes one look at Chan and goes _buuuuuhhhhh_ and suddenly words no longer exist.

Chan is very, very flushed. His lower lip looks swollen, as if he’s been biting on it. His legs are spread, erection glistening between them, and the insides of his thighs are dotted with little bruises under a sheen of saliva and precum. Felix can’t see Chan’s hole from here, but he can see the rosy tint creeping up Chan’s taint, and the wet spot on the sheets is framed perfectly by his pelvis, and and and.

“Lix?” Chan prompts when he doesn’t respond, and Felix’s brain kicks back into gear like the splutter of an unhappy engine.

“Sit on my face,” he blurts. And then, belated, “Please.”

Chan swallows once, very, very hard.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, okay.”

It takes Felix another embarrassing several seconds to tear his eyes from the mess between Chan’s legs and get himself in position. As he goes to lie down, he sees a large wet spot on the pillow Chan had been hiding his face in and realizes that Chan had been drooling on it as he begged Felix for more.

He really needs to stop fucking noticing things before he manages to cum in his pants. He shoves the pillow off the bed and throws himself onto his back in its place.

The wordless grabby hands he makes at Chan elicit a chuckle, despite the fact that Chan looks rather shell-shocked overall. He waffles for a moment, hesitant, making a couple aborted movements as though he’s not quite sure how to get onto Felix, and Felix thinks he might die _this fucking instant_ if he doesn’t get his mouth back on Chan’s body.

“Just put your asshole on my face,” he begs, taking one of Chan’s hands and pulling him insistently closer.

“Oh my _gosh_.” Chan mumbles faintly.

And finally, he does, swinging one of his knees over Felix’s head with guidance from Felix’s hands and a firm grip on the headboard. He looks down at Felix through strong arms, erection bouncing a little at the motion, and uddenly Felix can smell him all over. It’s strong and masculine and _delicious_ and he thinks he could stay here forever, watching Chan blush around the slick head of his cock, his muscled thighs warm on either side of Felix’s head.

But tonight Felix is too impatient for forever. He needs to see what Chan will look like when he cums on Felix’s mouth right _now_.

Chan isn’t properly sitting on him yet, hovering on his haunches too far above Felix’s face with his brows knit together uncertainly. Felix smirks as he remembers a news story Chan had shown him a few weeks ago among horrified giggles.

“You’re not gonna break my neck, Chris.” He runs a hand along one of the legs beside his head, fingers slipping over a rough patch of stubble where Chan hadn’t quite shaved perfectly.

Chan _hmph_ s with the intellectual air of someone who’s been reading too many clickbait articles. “The human neck is weaker than you’d think. It’s a definite possibility.”

Felix laughs out loud at that. “Yeah? Gonna take me out with your fat fuckin’ ass, baby?”

Chan opens his mouth to complain, but Felix has had _enough_ dawdling. So he sticks his tongue out as hard as he can and just manages to flick the tip of it over Chan’s hole.

Whatever Chan was about to say comes out in a surprised huff instead as his legs give out and he drops down onto Felix, warm and heavy, cock bouncing off Felix’s forehead. He scrambles back up just as quickly, gasping apologies. Felix can feel the shit-eating grin on his face as clearly as he can feel the smear of precum against his hairline.

“See? _I can take it_ , baby,” he says smugly, tugging Chan back down to him again. “Now _let me make you cum_.”

Chan makes a little noise like he’s been hit and allows Felix to return Chan’s abused hole to his lips.

This is a better angle in more ways than one. Felix is absolutely _enveloped_ by Chan, face buried in his balls and enclosed by his trembling legs, unable to smell, taste, touch, see anything but him. More importantly, Chan’s own weight fucks him down into Felix’s mouth better than Felix ever could. With every tortured sound Chan makes he seems to lose himself more and more in the feeling, no longer afraid to let Felix feel him as he grinds down messily onto Felix’s tongue.

“Good?” Felix asks when Chan lifts himself up for a short moment of respite, and even to himself his voice sounds abyssally low. He catches a glimpse of Chan’s white knuckles on the headboard as Chan _mmhmms_ unevenly.

Felix needs more. He'll never, ever get enough of hearing the way Chan's voice cracks and wavers wildly as Felix brings him to the edge. Chan has the most beautiful voice in the world, in Felix's unbiased opinion, but no perfect vocal run or spit verse can compare to the way he sounds when he loses control.

“Tell me how good,” he says, and sucks Chan’s balls into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chan growls under his breath, then his voice pitches up as Felix moves down to his taint, “Good Lix, ‘s good, feels so good, oh _my-_ ”

He’s rutting himself shamelessly against Felix’s face now, angling his body downwards so his cock can find friction.

“S’this okay?” he slurs as he does it, “S’this – yeah, _shit_ – okay?” And of _course_ it’s okay, anything’s fucking okay when he sounds like that.

He doesn’t need to tell Felix he’s getting close. Felix can feel it in the tightness of Chan’s thighs around his head, in the way he’s spreading precum over Felix’s brow. With how Chan is leant forward to grind on him, the top of Chan’s head is pressed up against the headboard, curls flattened as he looks down at Felix.

He may be breathy and whining, panting desperate through parted lips as Felix’s mouth traverses every inch of him down there, but his gaze is intent and dark. He looks like he wants to _eat_ Felix. Felix can smell his own saliva mixed with the scent of _Chan_ , and for one wild moment he thinks he really might cum untouched and slurping gracelessly over his boyfriend’s perineum.

But then Chan does, instead. Felix expects it to be a particularly deep thrust of his tongue that does it, but it happens when he lets up on his assault to suckle gently at Chan’s rim. Chan doesn’t even have a chance to warn him, just thrusts his hips down hard against Felix’s mouth and stills and cries out Felix’s name in a cracking, high-pitched voice, and then there’s cum spilling into Felix’s hair.

Felix licks into Chan slowly and heavily as Chan rides out his orgasm. He’s felt Chan cum a hundred times before, inside him and around him and against him, but he’s never experienced it quite like this. He can feel the little shivers that run up Chan’s legs, the way the head of Chan’s cock skids across Felix’s forehead as he twitches with the aftershocks.

Eventually, Chan begins to settle. He shifts his weight entirely back onto his own knees in an attempt to hoist himself up off Felix’s face.

Felix, hazy and horny and _desperate_ , grabs him around the thighs to keep him in place for one more moment. He licks a fat stripe all the way from Chan’s hole to the tip of his dick, relishing in the salty bitterness of cum and sweat that bursts on his tongue. And then he looks up and sees Chan’s face.

Chan is bright pink and panting, eyes glassy and unfocused. There’s wetness making his lashes clump together, and he’s looking at Felix with that _glow_.

Suddenly the throbbing between Felix’s legs feels a thousand miles away. Tongue still out, sweat cooling on the back of his neck, Felix thinks that if he could do nothing but this for the rest of his life he would be grateful.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, just staring at each other. Then, finally, Chan breathes, “Holy fuck,” and rises. Felix watches Chan’s leg visibly tremble as it passes over his nose.

Felix allows himself a moment to catch his breath – good to know his horny brain was so obsessed with tongue-fucking Chan’s ass that it didn’t care if he was literally being smothered through it – and turns to face Chan, and feels rather bowled over.

Chan is always pretty. Chan is always, always so fucking pretty, from when he wakes up in the morning to when he goes to bed at night. He’s pretty when he laughs, he’s pretty when he cries, he’s pretty when he’s barefaced and exhausted and whining into their bathroom mirror about how he’s breaking out. But Felix thinks Chan is the most beautiful after he cums.

Red splotches across his cheeks, blonde curls matted to his forehead with the sweat that glistens on his brow. He’s watching Felix with half-lidded eyes and a dopey smile on his face. Marks of pleasure bloom purple and splatter pearlescent across his skin.

The most beautiful thing about him in these moments, though, is his _contentment_. He slumps against the pillows freely, limbs loose, looking utterly at peace with the world and everything in it. Felix feels lucky to be the one able to give him that.

Felix doesn’t know what Chan sees as Chan observes him, but he can feel the spit starting to dry tacky on his cheeks, the precum and cum solidifying on his skin and in his disastrous hair. Felix can’t possibly look any sort of a pleasant sight, and yet here Chan is, looking at him like his entire world is right there in his bed with Chan’s ass cheeks imprinted on his face.

Chan’s gaze slides down his body then, slow and sweet as syrup, and Felix is reminded of his absolutely raging arousal.

“Need help, baby?” Chan asks in a raspy, fucked-out voice. He sounds intoxicated. Felix nods jerkily.

Chan rolls onto his hands and knees and crawls down Felix’s body. From this angle Felix has a perfect view, and the sight makes him dig his fingers into the sheets. The hickey beside Chan's entrance is darkening, as are the ones down the backs of his thighs, but they pale in comparison to the raw, swollen rose of his hole. The lingering saliva makes it glimmer under the lamplight. Felix has the vague thought that those blink-to-snap futuristic brain cameras would be a nice thing for the tech monopoly to invent right about now.

When Chan slides Felix’s pants and boxers down his legs, freeing his aching erection for the first time all night, Felix nearly cums right there.

Chan nudges Felix’s legs apart gently to sit himself between them, and just the promise of relief makes Felix buck up into the air in search of friction. Chan giggles with his lower lip between his teeth.

Felix is actually going to _explode_.

“Just…” he gasps as Chan looks to him for direction, “literally just jerk me off for like, ten seconds.”

He refuses to be embarrassed. Anyone else would be this close with that ass in their face for a night, thank you very much.

Chan’s smile widens at the words and he regards Felix’s hardness with a puppylike head-tilt, admiring the precum beading at the tip. Then, disregarding his instructions completely, he braces his hands on Felix’s thighs and leans down to swallow him all the way to the hilt.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Felix wails as Chan’s wild hair brushes his tummy, Chan’s nose buried in Felix’s own curls. Chan’s throat is hot and wet and tight around him, and Chan knows _exactly what he’s goddamn motherfucking doing_ as the O of his lips tightens and he swallows once, twice, three times.

Three is all it takes, and Felix’s hands are barely knotting in Chan’s hair before he’s cumming straight down Chan’s throat. Chan hums in satisfaction through Felix’s orgasm. When he pulls off with a sound as obscene as the ones Felix was making into his ass, he’s smirking lazily as he swallows.

Felix’s chest heaves, and he wonders how in the hell Chan can turn the tables so easily.

The naughty bent to Chan’s expression is gone as soon as it appears, though, and then he’s clambering clumsily up Felix’s body to drop himself against Felix’s chest. Felix can feel every inch of him, from the cool metal in his nipple to the dampness of his spent cock to that scab on his knee, pressed against the side of Felix’s own.

“Good?” Chan asks, in a loving mockery of Felix’s earlier teasing.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Felix breathes fervently. “So good. Always so fucking good.”

Chan laughs and digs his toes into the sheets. “You too,” he murmurs, voice thick, “so good for me.”

Felix can feel him drifting, can hear his breathing evening out against Felix’s shoulder. This position is probably even more uncomfortable for him than it is for Felix, but he doesn’t seem concerned about that at all.

He looks completely, entirely at ease, and the gratification is warm in Felix’s chest. He brings a hand up to smooth over the nape of Chan’s neck and scratch gently behind his ear.

“I’ve got cum in my hair,” he complains halfheartedly, voice so soft that it won’t wake Chan if he’s already fallen asleep.

Chan hums against his chest though, amused. “Yeah. Look pretty.”

“You need a shower,” Felix tries again, failing to choke down his giggles.

“Didn’t mind it when your face was in my ass.”

“There’s steak out in the kitchen.”

Chan sighs, long and deep and melting over Felix’s body like a Dali painting. “I’m so in love with you.”

Felix buries his face in Chan’s hair and gives in.

“Yeah. Me too,” he says quietly.

And Chan is here, and he's happy, and that's enough.

* * *

As Chan falls into much-deserved sleep, Felix’s eyes descend the ladder of moonlight the drawn blinds create on their intertwined legs. Its rungs climb over the mound of rumpled comforter at the foot of the bed, illuminating the floral patterns sewn into the cotton.

Felix thinks of a thread. He thinks of an anchor stitch.

There had been one day years ago, with an unfinished essay staring accusingly at him from another tab, that Felix had found himself in the sort of procrastinator’s internet click-hole that leads to articles on the history of patchwork quilts. His family has one, back in Australia – thrifted, obviously handmade, and infused with a permanently musty smell that renders it little-used. Felix has always admired the delicate artistry of it, the slight unevenness of the stitching that speaks of long hours and pricked fingers.

 _A patchwork quilt is like a scrapbook,_ the website had told him, _and every patch tells the story of its creator. The scraps they have lying around, the way those all fit together. An old tablecloth or worn top can share a seam with pieces of great importance in that creator's life,_ _such as a wedding gown or a child’s baptismal garment._

_Once completed, a quilt can last a family their lifetime and longer, passed down from generation to generation to keep them warm._

He thinks it’s kind of like that, him and Chan.

All of these moments like threads weaving into fabric, fabric that becomes patches on the quilt they’re creating over their time together. A pattern and a colorway for every smile, every touch of pinkies over a pillow in the morning. Him and Chan weren’t anything fast and furious, didn’t immediately trip over each others’ eyes and fall into bed together.

They built something slowly, steadily. They’re still building.

Chan’s started snoring in Felix’s ear. His elbow is in Felix’s ribs, and the cum between their bodies is gluing them together in an image that might be romantic if it wasn’t, you know, cum. Felix’s jaw aches and he’s a little cold and he wouldn’t wake Chan up for the entire world.

Felix doesn’t believe in love at first sight. But he does believe in _this -_ this enveloping joy that they've been creating for themselves, piece by piece, from the moment they met.

Whatever he calls it, it keeps _him_ warm.

As that warmth carries him into slumber, his last thought is to wonder what piece they'll be adding tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> a couple lil notes on some parts of the fic!
> 
> the specific text of the quilt history is made up, but it's based on actual info i found about part of the history of patchwork quilting. c:
> 
> re: the face-sitting thing: i saw some dumb tweet about someone breaking their neck because their gf sat on their face too hard and idk if it's real or not but yeah lol i'm sure it's happened at some point.
> 
> i had beta readers for this for the first time, so thank you for making this flaming trash heap of mush somewhat comprehensible because hoo boy I was having a Moment here.
> 
> follow me on twt if you like @babychanlix!


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